All Nonfiction Bullying Books Academic Author Interviews Celebrity interviews College Articles College Essays Educator of the Year Heroes Interviews Memoir Personal Experience Sports Travel & CultureAll Opinions Bullying Current Events / Politics Discrimination Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking Entertainment / Celebrities Environment Love / Relationships Movies / Music / TV Pop Culture / Trends School / College Social Issues / Civics Spirituality / Religion Sports / Hobbies
- Summer Guide
- College Guide
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Personal Experience
- Travel & Culture
- Current Events / Politics
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
- Community Service
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
Click, clock, click, clock. Loud footsteps sounded throughout the quiet, still house. They started at the front door, then traveled a few yards into the den
The little girl sat in the farthest corner of her room, clutching to her teddy bear as the sound of drawers opening and closing met her ears. What were they doing? Looking for something? Stealing something?
Something crashed. The girl winced, clinging onto her stuffed animal companion for dear life. Someone grunted, then the footsteps resumed, this time headed down the hall and to the staircase.
Oh, no, the girl thought. They’re coming for me.
In the pitch--black darkness, the girl, as quietly as she could, searched for a weapon. She felt on the top of her bedside table. All she could find was a small, plastic hairbrush, a bottle of nail polish, and a Barbie doll.
The footsteps suddenly stopped. The girl froze listening. Everything was silent. She moved her hand to her dresser to search for a weapon there, but her arm knocked her lamp, causing it to topple, then fall with a loud crash.
The footsteps quickly resumed, growing louder as they climbed the stairs. The girl, with a small cry, jumped into her bed and frantically pulled the covers over her head.
The door opened, letting in a flood of light. The footsteps approached her bed. She held her breath and attempted to stay perfectly still.
The person stopped. The girl heard their breath as they hovered over her bed. The covers began to slowly life off of her head…
“Baby, are you okay?” came the sweet, soft voice of her mother.
“Mommy!” She wrapped her little arms around her mother’s neck.
“Calm down, honey. What’s wrong?” Her mother looked at her. “Your face is red. Have you been crying?”
“I heard…I heard footsteps…” she whimpered.
“Footsteps?” Her mother listened. “I don’t hear anything, baby, everything’s…”
The girl’s mother hit the bed and slid onto the floor.
The girl fell back onto the bed. The house was silent.
Except for the click, clock, click, clock, of footsteps exiting the house.